


The Fear of Losing You

by jonsasnow



Series: Olicity Baby One Shots [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Death, F/M, Fear, Guilt, Nightmares, Regret, olicity - Freeform, olicity baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nightmares are infrequent these days. Since he had allowed himself to fully be with Felicity, they rarely ever come and most nights he sleeps without waking at all, but the rarity of their occurrence means that when they do, it takes him by surprise and it disorients him more than he's willing to admit to himself - and to Felicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fear of Losing You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this came about. I was just listening to Frank Sinatra and thought I wanted to write a cute fluffy one shot but somehow it just started out so awfully and everything kind of hurt for awhile. But in the end, I get there. I think. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'd love to hear from you! 
> 
> Otherwise, thank you for even reading! Much love!

It had all happen so quickly.

There was no time for Oliver to react. The waves crashed in and grasped him, pulling him under into its depths. Water quickly filled his lungs and it felt as if he had been lit on fire from the inside as oxygen was quickly ripped from him. Oliver tried to grab hold of something - _anything_ - but his hands flailed almost languidly in the murky water. There was nothing to hold onto. He could see _nothing_ beyond his own hands, and further and further down he went, pulled by something intangible - something _i_ _nevitable_.  _  
_

Oliver had been here before. Death was an easy concept for him to comprehend, more so than any other aspect of his life, and he had spent so long accepting that his fate was intertwined within its fingers. It didn't frighten him. It never had. The island had pretty much stripped him of the kind of fear that many he knew ran from, because for all that Oliver was afraid of, his death wasn't one of them. It was a necessity for others to live. 

At least that was before he met her. 

She had come barging into his life on a zephyr, with her continuous babbling and brightly coloured outfits. Falling in love with her had been the easiest thing Oliver had ever done. In fact, it was hard to pinpoint a moment when he hadn't been in love with her in some degree because his love for Felicity Smoak was a composite of a million different moments, a million stolen glances and a million different touches. It encompassed a part of him that he had thought died on that island.

And for the first time, Oliver was afraid. He was terrified to die. He was terrified of never seeing her face again or never hearing her talk about things he couldn't possibly understand. For the  _first_ time, Oliver didn't want to just survive anymore. He wanted to live; he wanted a  _future;_ he wanted to spend the rest of his life making her happy and protecting her from everything that was wrong and evil in this world. 

'But isn't that you?'

Oliver blinked against the darkness. Tommy's face was staring back at him, a scornful look in his eyes. 

'Aren't  _you_ what's wrong with this world?' 

A pocket of air bubbled upwards and Tommy was gone. In his stead was his mother. Her lips were pale and eyes dead as the night. 

'You're the reason I'm dead, Oliver.'

'You failed us, Oliver.'

His father joined the disembodied figures and Oliver struggled to speak. He wanted to tell them he tried. He wanted them to know that not a single day goes by that he doesn't miss them - or wish that he could just see them one last time. 

Oliver realised something then. He realised he did not wish to replace them; he did not ask for it to be him rather than them. He knew of course why that was but the guilt was still there and their angry, scorned faces swirled around him. Oliver tried again to reach forward - to swim upwards towards the light - but whatever that had grabbed him was not relenting. He was descending further and further down into the depths of the water and soon death would come.

...

Oliver jolts with a start. Cold sweat is dripping from his forehead and he blinks back the sleep from his eyes. It takes him a few seconds too long to adjust to the darkness but when he does, he realises with relief that he's back in his bedroom - the bedroom that _he_ shares with Felicity. Turning his gaze down, he notices that she's fast asleep, her face burrowed into his chest while one hand rests lightly on his chest. Oliver breathes in deeply and he allows her familiar scent to calm the palpitations that threaten to dissolve him, but the peace doesn't come. His breathing is still shallow and his body is so tense he feels as if he's readying himself for a fight.

He carefully pulls his arm from Felicity's head with his free hand cradling her so she doesn't wake. He notices then that she's mumbling in her sleep. He can't understand what it is but the act is enough to at least bring a smile to his lips.

Slipping from their bed, Oliver walks downstairs. The nightmares are infrequent these days. Since he had allowed himself to fully be with Felicity, they rarely ever come and most nights he sleeps without waking at all, but the rarity of their occurrence means that when they do, it takes him by surprise and it disorients him more than he's willing to admit to himself. He knows soberly that neither Tommy, Shado nor his parent's deaths were his fault. It had taken him close to four years to realise this but he knows that there had been nothing he could do. But sometimes, on these nights, he can't see it that way. On these nights, he sees their faces over and over and over again and he relives the moment each of them die, and he wonders what he could have done differently. He wonders if he had been a better man, could he have saved them? 

Oliver knows these questions don't help anyone and it only serves to drag him back to the hell that had taken up residence in his mind. This is why he leaves Felicity. He feels a darkness in him that doesn't deserve to be sleeping next to her. In these moments of self-doubt and despair, Oliver feels unworthy of her love and the faith she constantly has in him. So on these nights, he sleeps downstairs. She never wakes before him so she never has to know. It's not the greatest way to begin this lifetime with her - because although he hasn't proposed, he knows it's only a matter of _when_ and not  _if_ \- but Oliver isn't ready to admit that he still has the nightmares. He worries she'll feel like she's not enough for him somehow and that is a feeling he never wants Felicity to associate with herself, because of course she is more than enough. She is the whole world. 

He takes the throw that lies on top of the sofa and drags it over himself. It's thin and a lightweight but he's slept on a dirt, rock-covered floor for the better part of five years, this is nothing to him. He barely feels the cold. It takes him longer than usual to fall asleep but eventually, his eyes begin to drift and sleep finally welcomes him back.

The dream returns and Oliver is drowning again. His lungs bristle with pain and the voices of the fallen are shouting his name, demanding his soul for the blood he's shed. Oliver is drowning in more ways than one and his mind snaps awake. He doesn't open his eyes quite yet but the stillness of the air means he's back in the loft - except something's different. Something is pressed tightly into him. Oliver opens his eyes and Felicity is curled into his side on the sofa. Her feet is dangling off and by the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he knows she's not asleep.

"What are you doing down here?" he asks but he knows the answer and it never ceases to surprise him how easily it is to accept the little things she does because she loves him.

"I don't like sleeping without you," Felicity murmurs, her voice heavy with sleep. She pushes tighter into him but she can't quite get close enough and this makes Oliver chuckle. 

"You're going to crush him."

" _Her_."

"What?" 

"It could be a her," Felicity clarifies and opens her eyes to look up at him. Oliver smiles down at her and readjusts them so her whole body is on the sofa and he's sitting up with her legs over his lap. 

"Okay,  _her_." 

"Or him," Felicity smiles with a little twinkle in her eyes. She's being funny, which is less funny but more amusing to Oliver. "Are you okay?" she asks after moment. Her eyes are now full of meaning and she tries to lean over to touch him but her bump is too big now for her to move like that so she exhales deeply and resigns to lying down. 

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," she corrects him with a knowing look. "You look like you've just faced off Ras al Ghul again or something." 

Oliver grimaces at the name. He wonders if she means the old Ras or Malcolm Merlyn but neither, he supposes, means anything good. He knows now he can't lie to her. She always knows when he's lying. He doesn't know how she does it but it's like Felicity can see straight through him. 

"I had a nightmare," Oliver starts and quickly continues before she can say anything. "It happens from time to time. It's not a big deal."

Felicity clearly thinks otherwise but she doesn't say anything. "What was it about?" 

He doesn't want to tell her about the faces. He doesn't want to worry her when she's so heavily pregnant. Worry can't be good for the baby, so he tells her the only thing that's important. "Losing you." 

Felicity's face softens and with a loud grunt, she manages to sit upright and moves closer to him. Her hand instantly reaches out for his and she pulls it to her face. "I'm here," she tells him, letting his hand feel the curve of her neck, and she kisses his palm gently. "I'll always be here. You won't lose me." 

"Felicity," he says. "In our line of work, it's always a possibility. How can you be so sure?" 

"I'm not but whatever happens to us, to you, or to me," Felicity continues, "I'll always be with you." 

Oliver smiles at that and leans forward, pressing a desperate kiss to her lips. She responds enthusiastically by curling her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her. He breathes her in again and that familiar scent sets him at ease. "I love you." 

"I know," Felicity smirks and kisses him again.

And that night, Oliver still doesn't get much sleep but it's for entirely - far better - reasons. 


End file.
